La Serenissima
by Secret Heart
Summary: In the Renaissance era, Venice was called La Serenissima - the 'Most Serene' - yet, this city was far from tranquil: a courtesan by the name of Serenity rose to power...
1. Prologue

La Serenissima by Secret Heart

Disclaimer: Do not own Sailormoon.

Thanks very very much to my best friend 'Silly' for "editing" ... at eight in the morning. Also a great thank you to Madam Hawke for looking over my script. Your comments are invaluable. Grazie Tante!

Pre-note: Just for clarification, the idea for this fic was born at approximately the same time as when Madam Hawke started to post her 2nd fic. I just didn't get around to posting it. Yes, we share the same setting, but that's it. If you read it through, you'd notice that nothing else is the same. I'm proud of this fic because it is entirely **original,** born out of insomnia a few weeks ago.

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**O tempora, O mores!** - _Oh, the times! Oh, the morals! (Cicero) - _

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Prologue

"Cara, why are you so flustered? Don't play the innocent with me ... " Shoved underneath her skirts, ebony hair fluttered as the head lifted up to glance at the distraught woman.

"Endy, we can't do this now..." The slender woman looked at him, her voice quivering at the onslaught of illicit passion that the man was making her feel.

He smirked snidely: "I see, trying to play hard to catch, uh? That's rather hypocritical, Franni, considering that ... you reside in this palazzo." He finished the sentence while he reached up to scatter kisses on her neck, down her pale shoulder ...

She was losing her concentration, and she could not afford to do so. The last time it happened, there were consequences to be paid, and she did not want to go through them again.

"No...that's not it, it's just that - " She struggled to distance herself from him, but it was merely a weak attempt. Feeling her helplessness, the man grinned wickedly, holding tight onto her waist while slipping the strap of her lacy undergarment off her shoulder.

"Darling, we simply can't be caught being in here..." Both failed to notice a slender hand reaching open the scarlet curtains that form the entrance to the large area.

An imposing woman of stark beauty stood before them. She could not care less of the exposed limbs and thighs of the woman, nor the naked yet sexy derriere of the man whose back was facing her.

She had seen plenty of those before.

"What have we here, Francesca?" the blonde said pointedly. "I thought I told you not to bring your _guests_ into my luxurious abode."

With red satin sheets clinging to the lovers' bodies, the light from the numerous hand-blown glass chandeliers reflecting off their sweaty skins, no one could deny that the room perfectly fit the description of being luxurious.

Awaiting a reply, the blond woman standing was dressed in an equally rich manner: golden designs snaked around her tight indigo dress. The fabric and cut of the dress was noticeably of high quality, probably made by the hands of Venice's own tailors. She held herself regally at the end of the bed. "In fact, there are a hundred rooms in this palazzo, and yet, you chose to step in _here_. Once again, I might add." She stated as an afterthought.

The frantic brunette looked up, trying to fix her intricate layers of dressings. She swallowed hard. "I - I didn't mean to? He took me in here!" She panicked as she begged silently with her diluted eyes for the man to take the blame. The man glanced over sardonically, hardly ruffled at the untimely interruption.

Endymion rose from the bed slowly. Still half-dressed, his creased burgundy shirt opened further as he supported himself with the help of the bedpost to a standing position, revealing a body well-toned by the mandatory civil service the state required of all abled young men. "And who are you, _bella_, that you could think of kicking _me_ out of here? I chose to borrow this finely decorated room only for a pleasurable hour or so."

His eyes narrowed. "Do you even know who I am?"

The blond woman fixed a cold stare at the beautifully chiselled man. "Of course. Do you think I would not know the most infamous man to roam this pleasure palace?"

"Well, since you know who I am, might you return the favour of telling me your name?"

"I don't think so. Please get out of here before I tell the Doge's guards to escort you out."

She had been entertaining a certain distinguished guest of the Doge's who just returned from his travels in the exotic Byzantium. He certainly learned a lot of innovative and physically demanding lovemaking skills from his far-off sojourns. Hence, she was now thoroughly exasperated.

What looked to be an easy riddance was now taking way too much time. She reminded herself that getting the much-needed sleep in this palazzo was never too easy.

Trying to understand why he had never seen this blond before, he frowned. "Wait a minute. This is not fair. Such a - " glancing down at her body to give it a full once-over, " - such a beautiful and seemingly smart woman as you should never disregard my patronage, because I can provide you with wealth beyond your imagination ..."

"I don't need your money, nor your condescending self. Leave, before I can spill any of your secrets that you might not want others to know."

Sensing a challenge, he replied: "Well, well, what have we here? A cold-hearted blond who thinks that she could disarm _me_, Endymion."

"Yes, I can, Endymion Cavalli, I know who you are…"

Slyly, she added, "Or should I dare address you as, say, _Darien_?"

He was glancing at how well her body fit the rich fabrics, at how the cleavage of the dress accentuated her breasts … but at sound of the name, Endymion looked up sharply and his eyebrows furrowed into a frown.

"What did you just say?"

"I said, _Darien_, you better get out of here before I utter any more of your secrets."

Wide eyed, he exclaimed, with a suddenly hoarse voice: "But, but ... just who are you?"

Francesca turned to him sharply, a bit confused: "Darling ... what sort of name is that? You're Endy, right? ... She's ..."

"Leave this room, Franni, I'll deal with you later. I'll come find you after I talk to this - woman."

Francesca gladly took the advice and ran out, leaving a room filled with a tense atmosphere behind.

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Please review! Thanks

Note: I try to be accurate in my portrayal of Renaissance Italy as much as possible (even though this is a fictional account). Also, I've been to Venice, a city close to my heart. Thus, for all the facts, I credit other sources; and for all the mistakes, they are entirely mine to blame. (If a fact does not hinder the narrative, I would usually not alter it.) - Secret Heart

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	2. Chapter 1

La Serenissima by Secret Heart

Disclaimer: Do not own Sailormoon.

Thanks very much for all the reviews; and so a longer chapter is out for you! Thanks also to the same lovely people who looked over/edited this chapter. More to say at the end of the story …

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**Quia natura mutari non potest idcirco verae amicitiae sempiternae sunt  
**- _Since nature cannot change, true friendships are eternal. (Horace) - _

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Chapter 1

"Let me ask again: just who are you? What is your name?"

Her annoyance rose another degree. "You can keep up your inquiries, but then let me repeat again: I am _not _obliged to tell you. Now go chase after your girlfriend."

Either Endymion chose to ignore her tone of voice, or he was just plain dense. "If not your name, at least tell me who you are. How come you havearoused fear in Francesca? She's a pleasant and obliging girl..."

She narrowed her eyes, disliking the questions that he threw her. "Because I have earned the right to be feared..." She shut up before she revealed anything more.

Endymion ransacked his memory for anyone who he had bedded in this locale. That could be quite troubling, since he had been paying visits ever since he reached the age of understanding - that was, the age of understanding the advantages of being _acquainted _with women.

Now in his twenty-seventh year of existence, his body was at its prime physique, and yet, his mind could not place the beautiful yet cold woman in front of him. Something must be done. He would not let a woman get the best of him. And goddamn it, she could not act this way! She must desire him!

Obviously, all women in this palace had previously made their way to him. Or shall we say, his disarming charisma, his physical prowess, and his renowned skill at making sex a mutual ecstasy for him and each courtesan had attracted all of them.

_Well, almost all_, he reprimanded himself.

In this celebrated Venetian 'harem', all the courtesans were of high stature. Well-trained in the art of culture, flirtation, and sexual pleasures, they were thus shared only amongst the men whose families were registered in the official genealogy known as the _Livro D'oro_, or the _Golden Book_.

Only the highest Venetian nobilities, with ancient histories reaching back to 12th century and yonder could be inscribed into the illuminated manuscript with a golden brush. And so, he much preferred to frequent this locale above all other ones, especially since these women had the wit and charm to provide titillating and rousing conversations.

But this particular conversation was getting nowhere.

In fact, he was feeling rather frustrated, but he refused to show it. Any sign of weakness in front of a woman could be used against himself.

No. Rather, to get what you want, you must charm your way out, and that had always been his favourite method.

Putting on a falsely dazzling smile, he spoke: "_Carina_, you mustn't act so distant. We must get to know each other more ... _intimately_. I know what beauty is when I see it, and she is standing in front of me..."

She made a fake yawn, acting as if she had received thousands of similar comments. How could she be so immune to him?

He grudgingly continued on, barely hiding his impatience. "I know a lot of beautiful women. Hell, my uncle built this palazzo of the lower courts with his wealth and prestige, and so far, no one can resist me. I have been with all of you... "

She raised her brow, and returned a rejoinder. "Well, it seems that not _all of us,_ as you say, have _been _with you."

Ignoring the barb, he persisted. "But how is it that I have never seen you around these compartments before?"

"Because I have not deemed you worthy enough to know me. It is no accident that you see me now: I chose to be seen," came her retort.

"But why now?" Intrigued, he walked towards her with determined steps. Just as he reached to lift a strand of loose hair from her high cheekbone, she took a step back.

"Unfortunately, that's a mere mistake on my part, and it's only because I'm extremely tired. I wish to go to bed. Now if you would excuse me..."

Endymion interrupted with laughter at the thought of her words.

"Why, _carina_, this is a most unusual way of enticing a man. I must admit, you have piqued my interest. You confound me: first you refuse to tell me your name and your identity, then, you are so forward as to invite me to bed with you."

"Don't deliberately misinterpret my words, _Darien_."

He was glancing at how sensuous her hair carelessly hung around her head. But the name quickly woke him up to his dissatisfaction. He strode closely to the woman,edging her into the confines of the wall.

It made him even more irate, the fact that his bold actions did not intimidate her one bit. Her defiant look gave her away.

"How dare you ... where did you learn of that? No one calls me by that name anymore." His eyes narrowed, barely hiding the anger that she so easily created in him. "Just who did you sleep with to get that kind of information?"

She merely scoffed.

"Why, you think that I can only get information by using sex? Men would do anything to converse with me, and many hold me to be their finest confidante."

Her self-confidence was absolutely maddening. His hands fisted in desperation; he was extremely vexed. "_Puttana_, you bitch! When I find out who you are, you better apologize to me, because I'm going to make you suffer. No one knows calls me that, and is still alive."

She smiled boldly. "Well, I_ am _still alive, and you can't afford to kill me."

One hand shot out to block off her exit. The other hand reaching to the softness of her neck, he grasped her tightly, trying to frighten her. But she refused to bow down or be timid.

"Tell me one good reason why I should not strangle you right now."

"That is because, I am the only one who knows your true identity." She arched her eyebrow as she remarked, "why, I'm surprised at you, Darien. Don't you recognize me anymore?"

Endymion struggled to calm his brain. _The only one who knows his true identity..._

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He was thirteen. His best friend, ten-year-old Serenio, was barely catching up to his running. With a choked breath he muttered: "Darien, stop it, let me catch my breath!"

Endymion slowed down to wait. "Sery, you're so goddamn weak. Well hurry up then, we must run back before my father catches us out of our duties again."

"Ha, you know that Signori Cavalli is probably aware that we have been sneaking out to the countryside near Careggi. His eyes are all knowing, considering it is an occupational risk for him not to know ..."

"Yes, but he mustn't know that we have also started to eavesdrop on the men of the Platonic Academy and their drunken habits."

"I know. You are so unlike your father, the great _condottieri _who leads legions of armies into great battles. You certainly possess the same talent of jabbing men straight to death with precision and accuracy. And yet, you silently despise your profession."

"Yes, Sery, we have gone over this so many times. You are the only one who knows where my heart and passion lie. And don't you dare reveal to a single soul that I have been writing poetry."

"Yes, _Darien_."

"Nor my pseudonym either!"

_"Si, si_, _Darien,_" Serenio replied with a mocking bow.

"Damn it, Serenio! You can be such a bastard sometimes! I'll start calling you by the nickname that you hate if you don't shut up about it."

"Alright, _Endy_. Your words are my command."

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He was fifteen. He had been in Florence for two years already, ever since his father signed on the contract with the Medici family to protect the city gates of Florence against papal Rome. Pope Sixtus IV was a great nepotist, so great were his ambitions to lift his Riario relations out of the rot that they deserved to be in, and into wealth and luxury. He would dare to raise a holy army with the royal Aragons of Napoli to invade and conquer the renowned wealth of Florence.

Endymion disliked war with a passion, and much preferred to philosophize and be in harmony with others as much as possible. In that way, he was very much like his friend Sery, who had been together ever since they met at the grand ball that the Medicis threw every year.

At an age when all girls acted too annoying and looked too strange to young boys, they became bored to tears with dancing. It was there that Sery and Endy had bonded. When they began to converse about their shared interest in the symbolisms of Botticelli's paintings and the complex poetry in the writings of Michelangelo, they became fast friends.

Now that he was older, he had been brave enough to sneak into Villa Careggi. Gathered at the villa were the infamous intellects who held Dionysian conversations.

Names such as the rich Lorenzo _il Magnifico_, Poliziano the humanist, Mirandola the noble heretic, and their teacher Ficino all laid reclining on the indigo couches, achieving ecstasy through philosophy and poetry, through cabalistic mysticisms and invocations.

It was here that Endy had been sneaking in to attend the ceremonial masquerades. Striding in with a mask, he would go by the name of Darien, and enjoyed a mutual comradeship with the rest of the intellectuals. Sery wanted to come, but he was much too young looking, and way too short not to be discovered.

"Endy, come on, you must let me in on the secrets you learned at the Villa. It's not fair that I have to wait for you outside by the shallow willows every day."

He ruffled Sery's hair. "You have a disadvantage of height. It is not my fault that you reach only up to my chin. Lorenzo and Angelo and the rest might recognize you, and you'd blow my cover."

"Lorenzo? Angelo? So you're on first name basis with them now?"

"Why of course. It's a pity you can't be there," he rubbed in, "the atmosphere is so enlightening. Today we debated on the idea of spirituality. Do you believe that there is something out there that controls our actions and that directs our lives?"

"You mean, do I believe in fate."

"Well, if you want to put it that way."

Adamantly, Serenio launched into a lengthy argument. "No, I don't believe in fate or destiny, or god at all, whatever the name goes by. I stopped believing in it a long time ago. Besides, I want to do anything that I want to: I am the master of my own life, and if I can help it, nothing short of death would dictate or impede my path."

"But why, Sery? Why did you stop believing in fate or god, for that matter? Did something in the past change your mind?"

Serenio remained resolutely silent. Endy continued. "We are all taught by our education to attend church services, to love thy enemies and thy neighbors, and so on and so forth. Don't you want to think that there is a girl out there waiting for you to kiss and to love?"

Sery scoffed. "A girl? _Schifo_! What a disgusting idea!"

"Well, perhaps a boy then, if that is to your ... _preference_," he said suggestively.

"I don't go _that _way, Darien, not that there's anything wrong with it."

Trying to divert the conversation away from Endy's nosy questions on his past, Sery declared: "In fact, I heard that Angelo Poliziano, the tutor of Lorenzo's sons and daughters, have been quite _intimate_ with _il Magnifo at_ the Villa Careggi. Are you going to spill?"

Endy looked mischievous. "Of course not. I am sworn to absolute secrecy. Anything that happens in the villa stays at the villa."

"Come on! That's so not fair!" He complained half jokingly, half seriously. "I won't cover for you the next time your father asks me where you have disappeared to."

"Ha, you know what? I'll tell you if you beat me on the race home." Endy laughed wholeheartedly, and failing to see Sery's determined face, started to run off into the distance, closer to the place that he once called home.

Serenio slowed down, and watched silently as Endymion disappeared below the slope of the hill. He said silently to himself: "Why are you always making me run after you? It's as if our friendship is entirely composed of me trying to catch a hold of you."

Serenio was jealous that Endy refused to impart secrets to him. He promised himself to never be the chaser again. To never be used. Why should he always defend Endymion in front of his suspicious father, when he would never share the knowledge he reaped from the Villa? How could he be so selfish?

Why was he so stupid as to still be Endy's friend? Endymion, the boy who had all the good looks, the wealth, the intellect and the physique that would one day allow him to woe all the girls. He was the raven-haired boy that he fell in love with the day he sneaked into the Medici Palazzo to stare at the beautiful gowns, the dainty slippers of the girls and the handsome faces of the boys as they danced to the regal tunes of Italian madrigals. It was not fair at all. One thing Serenio learned from this useless friendship was that knowledge was power, since Endymion had so much hold over him, so much power over him.

He must not be weak anymore. He must not chase after Endy anymore: Serenio's desire now was to learn as much as he can by himself, and to use knowledge as a tool. He turned away, barely avoiding the shrubs planted near the edge of the Cavalli property, and headed towards his house.

Meanwhile, unaware that his father had refused to extend his protection in the midst of the intense war outside the gates of Florence if the Medici would not fund a larger salary for his men, Endy ran up the path to the gates of his temporary home. But Signori Cavalli was already making preparations to take his leave, and without so much as a word, swiftly hauled his entire family back to their hometown of Venice by the same evening.

Little did he know that Sery made a resolution to hate him. And little did he know that after that evening, he would never see Sery again.

Until now.

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As usual, please review! Grazie!

_And to all previous reviewers_: I am surprised by your enthusiastic responses! Wow! Thanks! Anyway, the inspiration was basically from non-fictional sources: a 4am studying insomnia for a midterm. I was going over notes on Venezia - _Il Serenissima -_ and I thought, HEY Serenity! ... and then everything took off from there. As to inspirational fictional sources, I'll write down a few names in a more pertinent chapter. (J. Carey seems interesting, but I have never read her before. And also, I am pretty sure I didn't make any careless mistakes:I quadruple-check my work, but if you notice any problems, be sure to inform me! Thanks!)

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Italian terms:

_carina/cara_: dear, darling

_schifo_: shit, or yuck

_Signori_: Mister

_condottieri_: a mercenary military leader

_Il Magnifico_: the Magnificent; also Lorenzo de'Medici's famous nickname

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	3. Chapter 2 Updated

**La Serenissima** by Secret Heart

.: Standard Disclaimer :.

Note: I reposted this because I found some mistakes, and mistakes make me feel icky. I also made it a tad longer. Anyway, I didn't alter any of the AN, so I'll be thanking people (for this chapter) the next time around. Thanks to allmy faithful readers! If you're good enough to keep reviewing, I have a little hint: the next chapter's done! I just need to edit it one more time, and what's more, it's the longest chapter by far .. so review review review!

Thanks, again, to Madam Hawke and Silly. Your comments and words are much appreciated.

_To my darling readers/reviewers:_ I must admit, one of my favourite screenwriters is Charlie Kaufman (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Adaptation, Being John Malkovich …) He writes movies that are confusing at first, but they make total sense by the end; he forces the viewer to suspend their bewilderment in order to play along with the story. And so, I ask all of you to wait a little longer, and everything will be explained. Don't worry, Sere did _not_ have a sex change (as advanced as the Renaissance thinkers were, I don't think that such high-tech surgical operations were invented yet.)

In any case, thanks very much for sticking around to reading this far (so far for the 2 chapters - Lady of Enchantment, koldy, Princess-Serenity-324, Becx, a fan, Tommeegirl21210, Lady CC Kegehoshi, fireangel621, Twighunter, curliesapphire18, madam hawke, TinkaBell12115, anna, Hopeless Dream 1125, Silly, Ashley, Angela, sexylucifer, PurpleRose44, L Angelblood, RoxyBunny, Lady Tristana Rogue)! Grazie! In any case, I did alter my original intention, and made it a bit less "confusing" in this chapter. Hope that helps!

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**Fere libenter homines id quod volunt credunt**

– _Men readily believe what they want to believe. (Caesar) –_

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**Chapter 2 **

"Serenio?" Endymion finally woke up from his reveries. He glanced uncertainly at the pale face of the blond goddess who stood in his arms.

Her eyes were the same stark blue as the ones he used to see in Serenio: albeit, the eyes staring back at him now were no longer innocent, no longer earnest, and no longer content.

In her eyes, he sensed a wealth of hatred, but she quickly blocked off her emotions.

Once again, the icy stare of the beautiful stranger had returned. She tried to shrug off his contact.

"Don't touch me, Endymion. You have no right to barge in to _my_ room, and use it any way you please. Now please leave at once."

"But ... so you don't deny it then? You _are _indeed Serenio? You ... you are a ... woman?"

_O dio_. He couldn't still be as dense as he was a decade ago, could he?

"_Ciao _Darien," she asserted. "I am not here to enlighten you from your idiotic blindness, nor will I entertain your questions. I am extremely fatigued, and this conversation is over as of now. Leave before I wake the Doge's guards to come and fetch you."

He was very confused. The look in his posture was one of someone coming to terms with the knowledge of what was in the past, and what was standing before him.

Relating the image of the short little fair-haired boy he once called his best friend, to this cold fiend of a woman who obviously had no heart, was not an easy thing.

He had always wondered what happened to Serenio.

He wanted to go back to search for him, but familial obligations tied him to Venice. He wrote back to his other friends in Florence, but none of them could state clearly the welfare of Sery.

Rumours claimed that the radical and spirited Serenio left the city, signed up on a ship set to sail the ocean blue with the mad explorer from Genoa, that Cristoforo Colombo who thought to prove the world round.

Little did they know that Serenio would end up as a _courtesan_, of all things! Serenio - a _girl_! _O Dio_; God forbid!

Sery had such a thirst for knowledge, a reckless bravery in trying to do every deviant act at least once: none of these traits belong to a _woman's _body. Granted, he liked his women feisty and full of fire, but it was hard to reconcile Serenio with this - _this_ despicable woman!

Now that he thought about it carefully … in fact, he recalled that Serenio did have an effeminate face.

He searched his memory, puzzled at the labyrinth of events that had suddenly sprung upon him.

Was Serenio pretending all along? Perhaps … perhaps the boy he once called his best friend was actually a _girl _dressed up in a boy's garbs.

A dozen other possibilities shot through him. He could not make sense of it all. The problem was … the Serenio he knew … that boy! He who was so ambitious, and who wanted to defy fate and destiny and god!

And perhaps he did defy fate. He shook his head with a small laugh and corrected himself. No, perhaps _she_ did.

So many mysteries remain to be solved. He knew the hour was late, or early, as one might be inclined to say, but he must find out at all costs the identity of this - Serenity - and to learn from others how she became who she was now.

Certainly, he had heard of her, but only in passing. He never concerned himself with women who he had never encountered before. He recalled that her name was often on the lips of his friends, and though he was intrigued by the fame of this female, he never paid much attention.

Perhaps he ought to have.

* * *

Heading towards the Palazzo Ducale where the current Doge - the ruler of Venice - resided in, he knew that his uncle would perhaps be a tad annoyed at his visit.

But then again, his uncle always had a soft spot for him.

He made his way through Piazza San Marco, and was allowed entry by the sentry guards. His eyes did not rest on the beautiful Flemish tapestries hanging on the hallways, nor on the soft glow of the cascading chandeliers.

He was a man accustomed to wealth and to the finer things in life: a man whose circumstance was far apart from Serenity's.

Endymion directed his own way down the dimmed corridors to the Doge's bedchamber. After knocking, he found that Doge Francesco Foscari was at his study table, probably replying to correspondences from afar.

Without looking up, Foscari asked: "What's your excuse this time, young man, for still being awake at this late hour?"

Not one for protocols, Endymion launched straight into his query. "_Zio_ Francesco, please tell me about the blond women who holds so much power in your Ca' Foscari."

Pausing from his writing, he looked up at the boy who he loved since birth. It was a pity that his father had to take him far away to Florence for the duration of his youth.

Francesco loved the image of the tall man in front of him, but he would have given all his wealth and kingdom up to watch Endymion grow up.

After all, it was the journey, and not the destination, that mattered.

"Ah, so you have finally met her!" His voice was full of mirth.

"Oh? You know who I am talking about then!"

"_Allora_, you must be referring to Serenity de'Sanctis. I gave her the name after our most _Serene_ Republic. _Venezia_, or _Il Serenissima_, represents such wisdom and such monstrous power that Serenity deserved the honour of being named after our beautiful city.

"To me, she is the symbol of _Venezia_: she is the daughter I never had ...

"Ambitious to the core, she was quite a wreck the first time I saw her. I used to discreetly frequent the brothels at Palazzo Loredan, and there, I met a girl who I found to be quite mistreated. I never had her myself, but this young little thing was so headstrong, so wilful ...

"She refused to tell me of her past, and I did not even know her real name: all she admitted was that she would not surrender to any one, and that she would not be owned. _Allora_, she was really such a fiery young thing, only sixteen years of age at that time, so I bargained with the hated Loredans (and you know how much I hate that family), bought her off, and granted her freedom.

"Since there was nowhere else respectable that I could introduce her to, I sent her to live in my palazzo, Ca' Foscari - the palace I built for the courtesans. She found herself enjoying the cultured atmosphere. She adapted very quickly, learning the skills as well as she could. Serenity was intrinsically intelligent, and even before her training by the veteran courtesans, she could hold herself in a good debate, and was well versed in contemporary verses and in political issues.

"I often wondered where she acquired such sophistications. It must be from the men she slept with at the Loredan brothels."

Endymion knew otherwise the reason for her learned mind, but remained quiet. He recalled the way the young Serenio eagerly answered the questions from their _maestro_ or their _professore_, outshining everyone in rhetoric lessons and in visual arts.

He smirked: then again, he himself was neck to neck with Serenio in politics, and admittedly, was leagues ahead in vernacular poetry and prose.

But wishing to listen to the rest of the knowledge that Foscari held, he silently nodded, urging him to continue his revelations.

"And so, year by year, she built herself an empire, and many men came to admire her. A few even asked me to allow them to take her hand in marriage. But whenever I consulted her, she steadfastly refused. She said that no man can take her away from the honour of directing the course of her own life, and she felt liberated living there at Ca' Foscari.

"She chose her own lovers and companions carefully, revealing herself only to those she deemed worthy. She usually prefers to dine with the most philosophical and scholarly of men. Her stimulus is her bewitching way with words: I have heard men claim that they can achieve orgiastic ecstasies just by talking to her for the night. No physical intercourse is needed, and that is why she is so powerful and wanted. Thus, as a compensation for the great business that she attracted to the palazzo, I gave her the best room possible, furnished with the greatest artisanal designs from _Murano _and _Burano_, and allowed her as much freedom as possible. Other courtesans revere her; none dares to disobey her commands.

"She has every characteristic that I desire for _Venezia_: ambitious, rich, feared, loved, cultured, and admired. And thus, Serenity is my most prized possession."

Strolling back to his home in contemplation, the pale moonlight laid a translucent glow on the oscillating cloak that enclosed his lean body. With a quick thanks imparted to his uncle, Endymion meandered past the narrow side streets while trying to digest the information.

So that was what Serenio had become. Serenio - no, _Serenity _proved to be such an enigma still.

Even his uncle admitted that he could never quite figure out the workings of Serenity's mind.

He must befriend her to learn more about her. _Si_.

Yes, he resolved: he simply must talk to her again.

* * *

For a week, he searched for her in vain. At every chance, he would drop by Ca' Foscari; and every time, one of the courtesans would inform him that she was off on an errand, or that she was _entertaining _a guest at an undisclosed location.

He even went to the favourite rendezvous of Venetians who had too much money to spend, such as the pleasure palaces of Moro or Mocenigo. He even stepped into the dreaded Palazzo Loredan.

He crossed and recrossed the canals of Venice a dozen times, to no avail.

He realized belatedly that it was true: when the elusive courtesan Serenity de'Sanctis did not want to be found, it was literally impossible to disobey her wish.

Disappointed, he went to meet his friend Andre Morosini for an afternoon of debauchery and gambling at the Palazzo Moro.

Andre waited impatiently for him under the pillars of his loggia.

"Cavalli" He hollered from afar.

"_E_, Morosini! So are you ready to ..."

"Sorry, my friend, but I must postpone the afternoon. My sister is supposedly in 'dire need' of getting her dress repaired, and has ordered me to do this servile duty. Am I to meet you at the masked ball tomorrow evening?"

"Ball? I wasn't planning to go ..." Endymion muttered.

"Endymion! _Dai! _You must go! Your uncle is hosting it, and all of the most glamourous citizens of _Venezia_ would be there ..."

Endymion asked jokingly: "Am I to believe that Andre thinks Endymion a glamourous man?"

Andre laughed. "Now now, you know what I mean. You, Endymion, may get to see those who _are_ indeed glamourous."

"Well, I guess perhaps I would go. And only because you ask so nicely..."

"Of course you will. Well, I must run along. See you tomorrow then!"

Andre turned and was getting ready to walk back into his household when Endymion stopped him.

"Wait, Andre! Do you happen to know a courtesan name Serenity de'Sanctis?"

"Why, she's just about the most famous courtesan alive! Why do you ask?"

Evading the question, he continued to question him. "Have you seen her before?"

"No of course not! I reckon she has not judged me worthy enough. I have heard of her beauty and her wit, but she seemed to be very elusive."

"Ah I see. Do you think she would be at this masquerade then?"

"Perhaps, but even so, she cannot be found if she doesn't want to be. She will be constantly surrounded by only those she trusted, and it will be impossible to come in contact with her."

"_Grazie_, Andre. I'll see you then!"

Endymion made his way from the well-worn steps of the loggia of Morosini before Andre had a chance to question him on his motives.

Frankly, he did not know himself why he wanted to find this elusive creature so much.

Perhaps, the idea of discovering and capturing such an evasive woman enticed him.

Indeed, that must be the reason.

* * *

**Please review! Thanks!**

_Arrivederci amore ciao _:) I think that soon, I'll add some Italian song lyrics if I can, to share with you guys ... they're so beautiful ...

Notes:

_Cristoforo Colombo_: the original Italian name of Christopher Columbus

Inconsistencies to do with Italian and English city names: only when spoken by a character would the city be referred to in Italian (i.e. "_Venezia_")


	4. Chapter 3

**La Serenissima** by Secret Heart

.: Standard Disclaimer :.

As usual, many thanks to **Madam Hawke** for your encouraging words, and **Silly**, without whom this story would have remained a figment of my imagination, never to be written down.

**To myreviewers:** Thanks again!I really appreciate it: **Becx,silly, Princess-Serenity-324, koldy, RoxyBunny, Dancer, porteboit, Samanda Hime-sama, artemis366, A Fan, **and** angelsnow. **

**Grazie Tante**! And to all of you, I give you the longest chapter so far !

o

**Panem et circenses** - _Bread and circuses. Food and games to keep people happy. (Juvenalis)_

o

**Chapter 3**

The biggest event of this hemisphere had arrived.

Under Foscari's rule, Venice was known for three things: wars, family feuds, and pageantries, and the latter was the grandest of all traits. Doge Foscari's masquerades would last for days; his processions were equally elaborate, rivaling those hosted by the Papacy and the Medici's Florentine balls.

This masquerade was of no exception. Extravagant gowns and elegant footwear swept across the halls of the Palazzo Ducale, accompanied by well-mannered gentlemen in sleek bejeweled dancing shoes and regal clothing. All donned incredible masks on their veiled faces, leaving only the eyes for appreciation, lending a sense of mysterious allure and anonymity.

The splendours of the fashion were mirrored by the highly decorated halls of the Palace. During dinner, sumptuous and exotic foods laid in wait for consumption while the polychoral musical compositions by Giovanni Gabrieli became background resonance.

Co-mingled with the noblewomen of the Pesaro, the Mocenigo, and the Foscari family were the courtesans. In 1443, the Venetian Senate banned the use of golden or silver cloth, and yet, fifty or so years later, numerous women at this masquerade glittered with the forbidden fabrics.

To a foreigner's eye, the _virtuous _noblewomen and the _tainted _courtesans of Venice looked indistinguishable in their garments of billowing sleeves and intricate designs. But to someone who knew the myriad aspects of women inside and out, Endymion knew that courtesans were not permitted by law to wear pearls, and the nobility were allowed the privilege.

The seating was arranged personally by the Doge, and Endymion was grateful that he was seated next to several of his friends and what he believed were the most beautiful women of Venice. Foscari was a fair and generous man: he mixed the nobles with the artisans, the women with the men.

By the intonations of the voices, the hand gestures and the equally revealing body language of each individual, he surmised that the ladies sitting next to him were Francesca, the courtesan he bedded several times, and Maria, another courtesan of the Ca' Foscari.

The matriarch of the Foscari courtesans, who others called _Il Madre_ Stefania, was also there. Flanked by his side was the artist Giovanni Bellini, a distinguished ambassador from the far east, and his friends Maurizio Moro and Andre Morosini.

A gorgeous creature sat across from him: her gown showed off her stunning body, but it was her dazzling blue eyes betrayed the identity of the elusive courtesan with whom he sought an audience with.

He must remember to thank his uncle for this mitigated opportunity.

After the pleasantries were over, dinner ensued. Conversations drifted from one topic to another. At one point, Andre, wishing to tease his sister, exclaimed audibly: "_Però_, what a pity that some girls are more sharp-witted and clever in the realm of the philosophy and the abstract arts than others, while others waste their life worrying about mundane things like irreparable dresses!"

For the first time since eating commenced, the blue-eyed beauty spoke audibly.

"No, I believe that all girls have their own specialties."

Andre, piqued at the interruption, said, "for example?"

Serenity replied succinctly: "Your idea of _mundane things _and _abstract arts _are, in fact, equally important in the well-being of _Venezia_. For example, some women excel in the craft of tapestries and sewing, while others are quite fluent in the ancient Latin - the only good language left to us by history..."

"Aha," Maurizio interjected wittily, "but _sola lingua bona est lingua mortua, _and Latin is indeed very dead."

The blond woman pointed out his mistake at once.

"But sir, if Latin is indeed very dead, then why are you - a living creature as our eyes believe you to be - using it still?"

Maurizio, at a loss for words, gracefully allowed Serenity the pleasure of being correct. Laughter erupted from the few listeners, but not long after, the foreign diplomat interrupted.

"Really, dear lady? I don't believe it. I mean, no, I too believe that Latin is still very much alive, but do women really speak this highly cultured language? I have heard that those women likened to practicing sorcery and witchcraft, who dwell in _Urbino,_ spoke this beautiful language, but I have never heard of such a thing in the civilized _Venezia_!"

"Well, ambassador - " Serenity was about to answer, when Maria joined in the conversation.

"I can prove it, ambassador," Maria said coyly.

"Well, a - shall we say - an _acquaintance _of mine taught me just last night a phrase that is suppose to be very enlightening."

Several voices spoke at once.

"Acquaintance, eh?"

"Let's hear it then!"

She cleared her throat loudly, and in an accent that slightly butchered the romance of Latin, she uttered coarsely: "Vir prudens non contra ventum mingit!"

A stunned silence swept across the vicinity immediately around her.

Then, Endymion could not hold it any longer: he tossed his head back, and burst out in laughter. The other men joined in, roaring with mirth. Maria looked absolutely horrid and extremely embarrassed.

Someone shouted at her: "Clearly, your cleavage is more impressive than your sense of decorum!"

She whispered to her neighbour in a faltered tone: "Sery, what did I just say?"

Serenity was thinking of how to spare her humility, when Francesca, ever the frank courtesan, intruded in.

"Silly Maria! I can't believe you trust anything that comes out of Tomaso's mouth when he's fucking you! After all, he says the most outrageous things!"

Maria, ever the redder in her face, cried: "Well what is it, Franni?"

"Darling, you just warned everyone that 'a wise man does not urinate against the wind'! Every man, regardless of whether he possesses the faculty of wisdom or not, would have realized that."

To add a few more nails into Maria's coffin of embarrassment, she added, "but sweetie, to say that kind of phrase in such a public place as this grand masquerade of the Doge is just a _faux pas_. You ought to learn the meaning of words before you use them, Maria!"

Maria, flustered and afraid of bursting out in tears, stood up and ran out of the dining hall. Her chair nearly tilted over. Innumerable pairs of eyes followed her humiliating flight.

With pity, Serenity tried to draw attention away from Maria. "_Satis! _Enough, Francesca. You've shown enough of your skills at Latin. But you're not the only female here who knows that ancient language."

Francesca's bravery petered out as Serenity scolded her behaviour.

Serenity commanded much power amongst the Foscari Palazzo's courtesans; in fact, all the courtesans of Venice, even in the Mocenigo Palazzo or the infamous Loredan pleasure palace all respect Serenity's graceful demeanour and her legendary, unbeatable wit.

Franni had all the courage and boldness when it came to challenging the powers of other women, but like the rest of the courtesans, she cowered at the feet of Serenity.

Endymion, seeing Serenity's subtle attempt to steer the conversation away from the poor girl, applauded her silently with an appreciative look. Serenity was wise beyond her years, and this was just an example of how she did not swoop down to the common practice of pettiness in the internal rivalries and jealousies amongst the courtesans.

Wishing to aid Sery, and well knowing that she can meet up to his challenge, he asked: "Well, Serenity, why don't you exhibit your aptness at Latin then?"

Serenity replied demurely: "Why, Endymion, I'm not the _exhibitionist _that you paint me to be."

Smirks rippled across the table. The diners, all well acquainted with double entendres, understood Serenity's rejoinder. She continued in a humble manner, "and anyway, I know Latin, but also, _sciome nihil scire._"

Bellini joined in the conversation: "Well said, well said! I always say, Socrates was one of the greatest philosopher to have walked this earth."

"I disagree." Endymion responded. "He was great, only if you count the fact that he educated Plato. I believe Plato is the greater man."

"Yes, well then, let's take a look at the line _'scio me nihil scire_,' which I will take the liberty of translating to as: '_I know that I know nothing'_. Socrates was an immaculate debater. He could talk his way out of any situation, and yet he was humble enough to admit that he knows naught. Even our beloved Cicero said that 'Socrates brought down philosophy from the heavens to the earth.'"

Endymion grinned in anticipation of his rebuttal: "That is true, my dear Bellini, but he alone may have the knowledge that he knows nothing. What's the point of that? _Scire tuum nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter _y_our knowledge is nothing when no one else knows that you know it_

Many gentlemen applauded, while the women not familiar with Latin sat frustrated.

Serenity smiled. "Endymion, don't be so insolent to Bellini, when _simia quam similis, turpissimus bestia, nobis_! _how like us is that very ugly beast the monkey_."

The diners nodded in amusement, some saying: "Hear hear, Serenity is uttering the admirable orator's idioms!"

Endymion feinted an injury, clutching his heart as if Sery stabbed him, and said meekly: "Touché, Serenity, for your high regard of me as a mere animal."

Seeing as some of the women are getting annoyed at Serenity for stealing the limelight, and not wishing to cause trouble for Sery, the Madre tsked at both Endymion and Sery, and said: "_Sunt pueri pueri, puerilia tractant (Children are children, and they do childish things_.) Now let's end these silly games, and converse back in our vernacular language."

Both mockingly obeyed. Conversations once more involved everyone, filled with light banters, serious flirtations, and perhaps something much more meaningful.

Meanwhile, between the eighth course and the desserts, between the _limoncello_ and the heavenly tiramizu-flavoured _gelato_, Serenity learned to appreciate Endymion's humour again, and Endymion began to see Serenity as more than just a courtesan.

The _torre dell'orologio_ struck five just as Serenity left the Doge's Palace. She allowed Endymion to escort her home. Together, they made a beautiful couple: a woman, dressed in fine fabrics with a figure to match; a man, tall and dark, like the prince of ancient faerie legends. Both were aware of only each other.

While dancing with Serenity, Endymion learned that she was still a bit wary of him. He wanted to be more _acquainted _with her - as one gets _acquainted _with a courtesan - but waited for the appropriate moment to do so.

Reading between the lines, he came to the realization that he needed to earn her trust - he needed to show that he could be just as good a friend to Serenity as he was to Serenio.

Surrounded by silence except for the cooing of doves, they crossed the _piazza _as the movement of the waves broke on the wooden planks in foamy patterns. A sudden chill swept by as they made their way to the steps of Ca' Foscari.

Endymion saw that Serenity shivered slightly. Just as he was about to take his burgundy cloak off to lend it to her bare shoulders, her hand extended to stop him.

"Endymion, it's alright. I'll be in the warmth of my room in just a minute."

The knight-in-errant in him felt disappointed at his chance to impress her, but he understood her need to be independent: remembering the words of his uncle, he knew that she worked arduously by herself to gain the respect that she received now.

He tied the strings of the cloak back, and instead, dared to ask her casually, "I know you are still fluent in Latin, but pray, do you still enjoy reading as much as you did before?"

Serenity smiled genuinely. "_Si_, yes! It is too bad that Doge Foscari did not install a library within this palazzo. I would love to have an easier access to books."

"Well there's an easy solution for that. Come to my library, Sery, and you can read all the books that I possess."

He said it with a seemingly practiced candour that Serenity immediately caught on.

"Oh come on now, Endymion, you think I would fall for that?" Serenity jested, her eyelashes blinked rapidly, coyly.

"You just want to seduce me, seeing as how popular and pretty I am now, you simply want to vie for my attention under the pretense of reading..."

Endymion laughed. "Come now, let's be friends again. I missed you ... and please, call me Endy once more."

"Alright, _Endy_. But still, isn't your father a frequent user of the library? I didn't know you were into voyeurism, or worse yet, incest."

He tensed up for a split second, then said tersely: "I mean it. I just want to be friends."

He looked intensely at her.

The atmosphere was still. Suddenly, the aftermath of the ball, the glitter and lights rushed back to him. But they were the only ones in the ballroom. Only they existed in that moment, in the way he gazed at her, in the way their bodies, taut from dancing, tried to separate from each other. Still he clung to her tightly, following the pulse of the music with exact precision.

Again, his hand tightened against her waist. Her lips parted slightly from the breathlessness of the quick steps: her lips looked incredibly luscious, so soft and vulnerable …

Yes, he remembered that moment. But he did not want to hurt her or betray her trust. If it was just a friendship that she wanted, he would along with it ... for now.

The memory hushed and faded away.

"Come visit," he repeated, "and no, I built myself a wing that is separate from the rest of the house, so no, I'm not going to seduce you ... "

_Not just yet_, he added silently to himself.

"Just come in the afternoon, Sery," he continued. "I'll be there."

o

Serenity joined her friends as they winded down from the long hours at the masquerade. The courtesans gossiped and compared stories. She noticed that a few courtesans were missing.

She smirked: perhaps they played their cards right at the ball.

Stripping down to her tight pink corset, Francesca began conversing with Serenity: "Sery darling, I remembered you conversed with Maurizio this evening."

"Yes, what about it?"

"He's very handsome. I noticed his figure as he danced with some other women, but I didn't get a chance to secure him. Do you think you could ...?" Franni waited for Serenity to finish her question.

"No, Franni, I don't think so," she answered while taking off the sapphire necklace off her creamy neck.

"Sery, come on now, courtesans are suppose to share with each other!"

"Franni, what I meant was, Maurizio wouldn't want you one way or another."

"Why?" she pouted.

"That's because he leans the _other_ way."

Realizing it was useless to pursue the subject, Francesca uttered: "What a pity that such a beautiful face as his would be wasted on other men. So anyway, what about that Endymion there? I saw you talking to him for most of the night."

Serenity's lips pursed. "Nothing's going on."

"Darling Sery, I was just curious. I have been with him before - "

"I know," Serenity gave Francesca a narrow, pointed look, reminding her of the time she _borrowed_ Sery's room for the night.

" - and I can attest that he's a great lover, a generous one at that - and not just in the sense of material compensation."

"Of course I know that. You don't think the gossip about the most virile man to roam this palace have not reached me?"

"Then what are you waiting for? He is obviously attracted to you..."

"No, I don't think so. Not in that way anyway ..."

Puzzled, Francesca asked: "what do you mean?"

She clammed up. "_Niente_; nothing. I must return to my room now." And with that, she made her way out of the common room.

Francesca frowned. Serenity was hiding something, she was sure about that. And it seemed to have flustered her so. Perhaps she could use this knowledge to her advantage. After all, even though Serenity was a friend now, she did not put their friendship above business. She could become the reigning queen of the courtesans: just as soon as Serenity got out of the picture.

Maybe fucking Endymion had more benefits than just simply carnal pleasure.

o

As she was undressing herself, she thought about what Francesca said. No, it was impossible: even if he was attracted to her, it was so because she was the only link to his past - to his childhood.

Any grown person would glorify and exaggerate the memories of their lost childhood, and she believed that Endymion was of no exception, especially since he seemed to have cut loose all his other relations to his youth, except those of his family's.

Otherwise, why did he act so angry when she used his nickname in front of Francesca? And when they were dancing just an hour ago, he looked away every time she mentioned about the past.

Yet, he accompanied her home, and flirted with her.

All for what?

To remember the splendour of those days when the success of sneaking out of one's own house can brighten the whole day? Or, to grief properly for a childhood that was no longer there? Better yet, was he merely grasping for the only thing that remained behind - her? The memory of Serenio - his supposed best friend whom he abandoned, never to be seen again, until - now?

Socrates was right: all Sery knew was that she did not know.

She did not know what to think. Back then, Endymion seemed very open and ready to share secrets, but in fact, she did not know much about him. Even now, all she heard were second-hand rumours, just like what Francesca kindly reminded her.

So he was a great latino lover? One that most courtesans - hell, most women - would fall for? So he can charm his way out of anything.

So what? Should she pine for him?

No, it couldn't be. We could only be friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

o

**Please review! Thanks!**

Terms:

_sola lingua bona est lingua mortua:_ the only good language is a dead language

_torre dell'orologio_: clock tower

Note:

Serenity's musings near the end of the chapter is an obscuretribute to one of my favourite poets - Wordsworth. Can you spot the reference?


	5. Chapter 4

**La Serenissima** by Secret Heart

.: Standard Disclaimer :.

**Many Thanks** again, to **Madam Hawke** and **Silly**.

And thanks for all the reviews that keep this fic going: Grazie **porteboit**, **Lady Tristana Rogue**, **koldy**, **malignacious**, **jadedmind**, **STEEL**, **mina2x**, **The Cuteness**, **WHEN?**.

And please, continue reviews: I would love to know what you think of it, good or bad!

* * *

**Tamdiu discendum est, quamdiu vivas**

_We should learn as long as we may live. (Seneca Philosophus) _-

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Serenity sauntered towards the imposing archway that marked the entrance to Endymion's loggia. It was not a palazzo as his father's was, but nevertheless, it was equally if not more grandiose.

While other Italian cities were already embracing the new humanist characteristics of Renaissance in their architecture, Venice clung to the gilded style of the Medieval Ages.

Laced with decorations, the pillars supporting the facade gave way to the pointed late-Gothic broken arches. Serenity grinned: above the arches were the humanist curves, a homage that she believed Endymion was paying to his Florentine education.

Byzantine art and rich Venetian tapestries flanked the hallways of the interior, clashing with the memory that flooded Serenity: that of the art of Michelangelo and da Vinci adorning the walls of Florentine churches.

So it seemed that she decided to pay a visit to Endymion after all. It was a sign that she was willing to take the risk of befriending him again.

For old time's sake.

Of course, she could not stay for long. In a short while, she must get prepared herself, for the San Marco procession was this evening. She would be acting as a companion to one of the dignitaries of Venice.

Thanking the servant for guiding her, she stepped through the intricately carved wooden doors and into another world.

The library was spacious: the vaulted ceiling was high with pointed, ribbed embellishments, allowing natural light to penetrate to all corners of the room. Even in the late afternoon, Serenity could see clearly the lush bindings of the manuscripts: all were done with the Cavalli code of arms embedded onto the spines; the colour of burgundy velvet looked luxurious, enhanced by the golden edges. It looked as if rose-coloured wine spilled lovingly across the bindings of the codices.

She spied Endymion on a ladder, reaching for several manuscripts.

He looked so disarmingly cute: his tight derriere perked out from his leggings as he tried to grab a hold of the books. He nearly lost his precarious balance.

Serenity's light laughter revealed her presence to him.

Endymion spun his head around, and exclaimed: "My dear Sery, you caught me in a most compromising situation."

"_Si_, seeing Endy awkwardly losing his balance is indeed compromising. What would the swooning ladies think now when they learn that you are easily unmanned by a mere a stack of manuscripts?"

Pretending to be indignant, he responded: "_E_, I'll have you know these are no _mere _manuscripts."

Serenity laughed throatily, thoroughly amused at Endymion's lack of concern for his self-image. He seemed to care more about art than reality. She heard some say that Endymion was too intellectual, with no grasp of real life.

Would he ever understand her situation, and why she chose this path in life - this vocation as a courtesan, instead of what could have been? Or would he use ideals and misplaced chivalry to blame her for the choices she had made?

Quickly pushing the unheeded thoughts aside, she smiled at him, and said: "Let me help you then, Endy."

Stretching her arms to the dusty bindings, she almost sneezed.

"Sorry, I've not touched some of these for months," he said gruffly, in an almost apologetic tone.

While climbing down from the heights of the library, Endymion, ever the scholar, launched himself into an explanation of his collections.

Fascinated with the parchments in her possession, she half-listened.

"… I paid several scribes to help me translate the Greek texts. That was an easy task due to the unfortunate annexation of the Byzantine empire by the Ottoman Turks. I'm sure you know very well that many Byzantine ambassadors sought for asylum in this city, and many brought with them educated scribes equipped with the knowledge of Greek and Latin. I also acquired a few original medieval manuscripts from a nearby scriptorium, and several I ordered from Rome. Some secular tales too, such as the French romances, lay in my possession. If you notice here carefully, I have also started to collect printed books. A man named Gutenberg invented this peculiar idea of printing some forty years ago, and only lately did Venice adopt the methods. I still value the handwritten method though. Hence, I have collected many manuscripts which you see housed in here…"

Finally noticing that Serenity was quite absorbed in one of the manuscripts, he leant over to her near the burgundy lectern.

She looked up, with a curious delight that he thought he would never see again on her features.

"The calligraphy here is beautiful."

Her hands graced tenderly the etchings and the glowing illuminations on the aged leaves. Her reverence and awe for the manuscript struck Endymion as a good omen: he was starting to see a glimpse of the old Serenio in Serenity.

"Yes, this was done by a monk in the 13th century. As you can see by the title and content, it is the latin text of Cicero's letters. I found it when I was excavating the storage areas of the Laurentian library in Florence, and Lorenzo allowed me to keep it."

Mesmerized by the details, she continued to stare at the manuscript.

"Actually this book is quite humourous to peruse through. See here - " Serenity's hand moved aside as he began to flip the pages further on, trying to find the correct leaf.

" - _Eccovela qui_! Here it is - see here, the pages of the parchment were not cut properly, and look at the marginalia here." He pointed, and gauged her reaction.

She read it out loud.

"This manuscript is hard to bear with; the content is entirely uninteresting. Cicero is satanic beyond redemption."

A smile crept into her voice. She read on.

"…my hands are well worn, and yet I copy on meticulously, in fear that the cardinal - or god - would take it upon them to tear my fingers apart, rip my heart out, and ship me off to the hellish fires of the inferno."

"So what do you think about it?"

"I think that this monkish scribe seems utterly superstitious, but in reality he isn't! How funny to think that he thought the cardinal might fling him into the depths of hell, and yet, he could be so courageous as to write so bitingly against the text of the manuscript. It's as if he was defying the dogma of Catholicism, and dare to write his own opinions next to the text that the cardinal ordered him to transcribe."

He smiled, enjoying her thoughtful analysis.

Serenio and he had always managed to think alike, and even with the passing of time, their opinions remained the same.

"Yes, that is what I think too. The hypocrisy of institutionalized religion had existed for centuries, and yet, the church - and the eternal Rome - lives on."

"Did you hear about the new pope? Alexander VI … he is quite a character, I must say."

Endymion sneered.

"Yes, of course. What can you suspect, when he hails from the notorious Borgia family? Begetting four children while he was a cardinal, and now, publicly flaunting his mistress Vanozza Catanei … he will indeed bring down the prestige of our religion … "

Little did he know that he predicted quite correctly the events to come in the next century.

They moved on to other texts. Serenity was secretly amused at the fact that on one of the shelves, Endymion placed a work of Cicero, the 'satanic' ancient Roman orator and writer, right next to the bible. Of course, he was not really evil, merely that most religious figures would frown at any literary work written by the ancient pagans. She always thought that Endymion was fervently religious, but his library collection said otherwise about him. Surprised at this, she wondered how many more new revelations he would toss at her.

Meanwhile, Endymion was silently fascinated at the way Serenity treated each book with quiet amazement and care. He had never known females to be so interested in books and manuscripts, or, in fact, in pure knowledge.

In fact, he had never brought a female to this corner of his lair, let alone a courtesan …

Why exactly did he invite her here?

Here in this library was the private space for his refuge: a place where the burdens of being born with privilege could be ignored; a place where he could be blissfully solitary, alone with his thoughts and his inked pen to freely write across the loose pages of parchment.

But of course, he was not about to tell her this. He would not want her to have the upper hand, or to read too much into this. Hell, he did not even want to read too much into this. He banished thoughts of this enigma away, concentrating on explaining the peculiar details of his latest acquisition to Serenity.

And thus, both are engrossed in the calligraphy, in the glint of gold on the leaves, and in each other, unaware of the soft dusk that slowly settled in the room. The latin and greek treasures laid glowingly under the tangerine hues of the sunset: shadows elongated, stretching and merging into the dark cornices.

After a while, the blond courtesan summed up her observations: "Endy, your collection is marvellous! This library feels like the legendary collection in Urbino that I've only read in faerie tales ..."

Endymion replied: "Faerie tales? I assure you, the brilliant court of Urbino is real, and so is their library."

He saw her eyes sparkled, and continued: "You should travel there one day: many women and courtesans there are nearly as brilliant as you…"

Serenity dreamily answered, gazing at a remote corner of the deckled pages in front of her: "Someday, I guess … "

Her fingers, drawn to the contours of the uniquely shaped book, she traced it slowly down its spine.

"Anyway, Endy, this library is great enough. I absolutely love the gilded bindings, and not only that, your choices of literature are fascinating. You have Cicero, Ovid, Petrarch, and even the devious Machiavelli's works, who I've heard so much about when I lived in _Firenze_."

"Yes he used to live in the loggia next to mine, until he was exiled into the outskirts of the rural farmlands…"

At the mention of Florence in such a personal manner, Serenity suddenly felt uneasy: the memory of a distraught young pubescent girl with short hair and in a boy's attire, crying at the fact that her best friend never said goodbye to her … the fleeting image of a woman who took care of her so lovingly, the colours of her face, beige and grey, bleeding and tainted by the recollection of a brutal man, and an equally brutal parting of a mother and a child.

A canvas of her youth rose before her mind, impenetrable by Endymion.

Seeing her forlorn look, and at the way her shoulders sagged beneath the weight of unpleasasnt thoughts. He wanted to kiss her frown away.

Without being conscious of his actions, unaware of the consequences, he bent his head and kissed her softly. For a moment, she reacted naturally, leaning closer into him.

For a moment, even the library did not exist.

Jolted by a sense of resentfulness, she pulled back suddenly. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Endymion, you promised me …"

He tried to recollect himself. He wanted more than just this fleeting kiss … but with the way she was looking right now, he was afraid that she would have to be dead before he could touch her again.

And he did not want her dead. Far from it.

He ran his hands through his ebony hair. "Sery…" He didn't know what to say. How can you explain the force of attraction? He didn't even know where it came from. The enigma of love between a man and a woman, hell, between any two human beings, was inexplicable.

And here was Sery, trying to demand an explanation from him!

Serenity inched away from him, afraid of what he would say, and even more afraid of what what he would leave unsaid.

"Endy, this is not right … I thought you just wanted to be friends. That I could be ready for, maybe, but anymore is impossible." Getting worked up in her speech, she felt happy that she could blame her uneasiness on Endy's past behaviour.

How else could she explain away the way she felt when he branded her with the softest and most giving kiss she had ever received? She felt that she had betrayed her own past. She could not let Endymion into her life, not before he could clarify his abandonment on their fast and youthful friendship. She did not know if they could be friends, let alone … more than that…

She could not let her guard down. Clearly, Endymion's renown for enticing countless ladies to fall for him was accurate, and he was using his weapon of practiced seduction with extraordinary flair. She had to give him that much.

But his frustration turned into cruelty.

Before she explained herself, he uttered: "For heaven's sakes, Serenity, what's wrong? Granted, we have just met each other, but I'm sure in your line of work, you're used to getting to know your companions in short notice…"

At the way he insinuated, Serenity looked away. So … this was how he thought about her career. Her question has been answered. She turned towards the doors that once seemed the gates to paradise. She laughed inwardly. They now seemed like the entrance to hell.

Why didn't she expect this? She should never have come, she thought as she walked was about to exit the library.

Endymion, slow to comprehend the hurtful words he thrown at her, suddenly felt remorseful.

"Wait. Sery! I'm .. I'm sorry …I di- I didn't mean to offend you. I was just frustrated at your actions, which seem so incongruous to … your line of work. What's wrong with getting to know each other better? There's nothing wrong if I find you attractive and beautiful and intelligent, and that I would want to act on my desire …"

"You don't understand, do you?" Serenity replied, resignedly.

"Understand what?"

"Understand the fact that a young child would be traumatized by the fact that her best friend left the city without a call, or even a note!"

Struggling with his thoughts, he could barely grasp at the reality of what he had done to Serenity. "I didn't know that you would be so bothered by that. And anyway, I - "

"Of course I would be concerned about it! My best friend! I thought the worst of your fate - I mean, in a twelve-year-old's mind, all sorts of wild imaginative scenarios occurred! I thought you drowned by that river we played in, I thought you were punished by your father for sneaking into Villa Careggi…"

Endymion grimaced. "You always did have a good instinct."

Still sceptical, she looked at him through hooded eyes. "You mean, my instinct that we should never be more than friends is good?"

Endymion became exasperated, and tried to hone in his impatience. Perhaps she did not understand the exact context of his so-called 'abandonment'.

"But that's the thing, Sery. We _didn't_ even part. I couldn't come and find you - "

"No, you could've written to me. You could've run back to find me …"

"But I couldn't! Don't you understand? My father detained me. He wouldn't let anyone out of the house. Even if I wanted to send a servant out with a message, it would not have even be successful. Don't you see? You were nearly right, my dad did become suspicious of the activities in Lorenzo Medici's Academy at Careggi. That was the reason why he didn't renew his contract as the condotierri: he heard the rumours about the going-ons at the Villa, and since it was too close to our loggia, we had to leave."

"What do you mean too close to your house? It wasn't that near - "

"Stop being so obstinate, Sery! You don't get it, do you? Not even after you've seen the way my father acts: ever the patriarch, ever the good Catholic! He'd been listening to Savonarola's sermons on how evil Florentine society had become, how an unnatural disorder had set in the lower states of Italy. And hearing about Lorenzo and his friends … and their nearly heretic philosophies and their loves for each other …"

"You mean, non-heterosexual love. "

"_Si_, that. Their platonic ideals and their platonic loves are sometimes, well, more than just platonic, and to outsiders, it might seem sacrilegious."

"But that's only because they believe that through the love of brotherhood and fraternity, they could come to a higher understanding of the essence of life."

He looked at her wryly. "Well, I'm sure my father doesn't know that, and even if you told him, he would say it's a bunch of sacrilegious bull."

"Then…"

"Yes, by his decree, he made us all swear that we would never associate with anyone who went to Careggi. And he warned that if he knew any servant of the household or any member of the family who was linked with them, he would disown us."

She began to understand the implication of his anger at their first meeting in Venice. "_Si_. Hmm, and I have always wondered why you reacted so angrily when I mentioned the name Darien that night when we met …"

"Oh I didn't tell you the best part of this sordid and sad little tale. You see, my father got a list of all the attendees at the Academy. He was able to identify all the people, but he could never figure out who the real character behind the pseudonym _Darien_ is."

"And you couldn't risk your father's order?"

He hesitated, careful that he was treading on dangerous grounds.

" ... No, not then. But now, honestly, I don't know. I don't really care what happens anymore. He doesn't like the way I conduct my life. It's not like he doesn't have his own secret liaisons outside of his marriage with my mother, but he disproves of the way I do it so publicly, and how my closest friends are all artists and philosophers. He thinks those people are of no use in life. One must do the 'civic duty', and be a politician, or be a lawyer. But all lawyers are felons anyway, and politicians, well," he shrugged, "they're all corrupted."

Serenity began to warm up to him, finally realizing that the errors of youth were just that: youthful mistakes. She could not fault his compliance to his father's instructions, and yet, she could not help but feel that he could at least have made the effort to contact her in some way.

Still trying to disagree with anything he said, she retorted. "Well, civic humanists like Coluccio Salutati wouldn't agree with you there."

"But they're of a bygone era. Nowadays, most politicians would turn a blind eye towards crime for a few _florins_. And anyway, I stay out of my father's way, and that's how I've dealt with the past, I guess. I hated the way I had to meekly follow his orders … sometimes when the past surfaces back into my consciousness, I do regret breaking ties so abruptly with all my Florentine acquaintances. I despised him so much, of wrenching me away from a solid Florentine education. Do you happen to know the way we pass through adolescence in _Venice_?"

She shook her head.

"Ah it's better for you not to have known. But how else can you rationalize away the abundant amount of courtesans and prostitutes in _Venezia_? Schoolmasters here send their students to the brothels." He leered contemptuously. "They think little of a rounded education. Instead, they believe that learning how to fuck properly is the most essential part of growing up."

Serenity was not shocked at his words, but she felt the need to appease his anger. She realized that he left his childhood through bitterness … perhaps she should not have prejudged his behaviour, not before she learned of the context. After all, the idiom 'do not judge a book by its cover' was universally valid.

With the skill of a well-trained courtesan, she turned Endymion's thoughts back to the present. She did not know why she had to comfort him, but only that she had to.

And once again, he felt content. Talking to Sery like this, as if they were young once again, as if she was a male comrade: this made him feel elated.

He did not know why.

_You're the only one who knows me now, Sery_…

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Wow I got carried away by this chapter. There's still a little bit more of this "library" scene, but I'll post it on in a week (not done editing). Anyway … I'm tired. And it was not suppose to be as long as it is now. Oops. Did anyone notice that I love the history of books? 

**Please review! Thanks!**

Terms:

_Codices_: plural of 'codex', which is a manuscript volume, otherwise known as the ancestor of what we call the 'book'.

_Eccovela qui_: Here it is 

Notes:

Pope Sixtus IV (reigned from 1471-1484); Pope Alexander VI (from 1492-1503). I wrote that Endymion correctly predicted that Pope Alex. would bring down the religion … in fact, it was one of the reasons that led Martin Luther to protest in 1517, thus creating the great division in Christianity.

Savonarola was a Dominican friar and prophet (1452-1498). He preached in Florence and led a puritanical moral crusade; prophesizing the collapse of the Medici rule. He was later hanged for acts of treason.

The Academy at Villa Careggi was real, but the "persecution" of the members of Academy is entirely fabricated, at least to my knowledge.  



	6. Chapter 4b

**La Serenissima** by Secret Heart

.: Standard Disclaimer :.

Thanks to a few recent reviews, I finally got the incentive to update this near-forgotten story. Thanks for sticking by me, and for your interest!

Please **Review** after reading this very very belated chapter, so I can be inspired to continue writing future chapters ...

Ps: only a very short chapter here, because it is the scene linking Chapter 4 to Chapter 5. Please re-read Chapter 4 before reading this.

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**Dum spiro, spero **

- _While I breathe, I hope. (Cicero) _-

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**Chapter 4b **

And so, the day passed away.

They had been going through hundreds of manuscripts in the same manner, and yet, none of the bibliophiles were getting bored of their re-acquaintance with old texts.

Then, Serenity came across one of the medieval French romances that Endymion described before: inscribed on the front cover were the words _Lancelot du Lac_.

This should not have struck Endymion as any different from the previous books, but at the same time, the scene before him struck a familiar chord with his memory: the act of looking over Sery's shoulders to read the manuscript reminded him of Dante's great epic poem.

The 14th century poet condemned the infamous pair of lovers Francesca da Rimini and Paolo to the second circle of hell, due to their illicit love, born of reading together the same text that Sery and him are now reading.

Recalling the lines of Dante, Endymion wished that he could describe love poetically as effective as the legendary poet did:

"_Love, that excuses no one loved from loving, _

_seized me so strongly with delight in him_

_that, as you see, he never leaves my side._

_Love led us straight to sudden death together…"_

Without realizing it, he began to recite the passage out loud. Serenity gave a curious look.

"… _time and again our eyes were brought together_

_by the book we read; our faces flushed and paled._

_To the moment of one line alone we yielded: _

_It was when we read about those longed-for lips_

_Now being kissed by such a famous lover, _

_That this one (who shall never leave my side) … "_

He grew silent, slightly embarrassed that he put so much emotion into the reading of the poem.

But somehow, Serenity understood his words: she understood what he was asking for, and though she could not give it to him at this moment …

She finished the poem for him, her exquisite voice bearing the ancient words a renewed dignity.

"_then kissed my mouth, and trembled as he died._

_Our Galehot was that book and he wrote it._

_That day we read no further…"_

She paused self-consciously, her hand barely holding onto the pages of the manuscript.

Her delicate features betrayed her thoughts.

His eyes did not waver from hers. What was once a fresh evening was now thick with suppressed desires.

His body felt heavy with an emotion he could not name, simply because he had never experienced it before. He had countless lovers, certainly, with most of them experts at the art of intercourse.

But all he knew was that all those nameless women paled in comparison to her, this creature that stood in front of him, so ethereal in her spirit, yet so worldly in her knowledge.

Something changed in him. Dante could do that to a lot of people. Nevertheless, their shared knowledge of an epic poem that they had both memorized from their youthful days … it touched him, beyond words.

She was a mass of contradiction, a labyrinth of order and chaos for him to get forever lost in. He never wanted to find his way out.

Her eyes were a magnificent hue of royal blue, and all he wanted to do was hold her against him, to be trusted by her, and to be worthy of her friendship.

At the thought of that, he awoke from his short but sweet reverie.

Yes, _friendship_, he scorned silently.

_Si_, despite his utmost wants, he had to keep the atmosphere light.

He could not afford to lose her _friendship_, when she clearly did not want to be anything else ... to earn her trust, he must.

With a false lightheartedness that he did not possess, he managed to disentangle his thoughts and focus on reality. But Serenity beat him to it.

She broke the silence by saying: "Well, I must run along now. I have to get ready for tonight's festivities."

Disheartened that she had to leave so soon, he ventured to ask, "When will I see you again?"

"My schedule's quite booked the next week, due to the San Marco festival." She searched her memory.

"But I believe Bellini is trying to finish his painting next week. You can come by and see us at San Zaccharia".

"Ah, so Sery, you paint too?"

"_Si_, but that's not the reason why I will be present there."

"But why? _Perché_?"

"If you want to know, Endy," she smiled enigmatically, "then come next week."

"Hmm," he mused, "I like a woman with mystery."

"_Però_, you must be smitten with me at this point," she flirted lightly.

He arched his eyebrow. "I wouldn't be surprised if I am myself."

And without waiting for her answer, he walked off with a manuscript in hand, leaving her alone in a library that was stilled with the silent pages of history once more.

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**Please review! Thanks!**  


Note:

Couldn't resist adding the richly intertextual work of Dante Alighieri's Inferno into the storyline. Paolo & Francesca were illicit lovers who fell in love due to their shared reading of _Lancelot du Lac_. Anyway, reading it over now (after not touching this story for half a year) it seems very convoluted. What do you think? I think I might concentrate less on descriptions from now on ...

But! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


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